Daylight Savings Time

Victoria Nordlund


The days have a way of bleaching him.
Word rich from dreams,
he begins to leak the moment he rises.
Gaping in the bathroom mirror
the lines on his face replace
those he used to recite
and take the verses never written and
the regrets he longs to have.
Feels his breath
foul from sleep
slip past a voice
no longer heard
and teeth that no longer have
the desire to chew.

The remaining fluorescent bulbs
unveil creases
deep as curtains
cover his eyes
that see the coffin in the sun.
He watches mold
grow across his ceiling
the rust sprouts on the floor.
And he accepts
the crusting corners in his eyes,
the little piles of infection
he no longer tries to clean away.
Trusts the pus
that bubbles in his ears
and the brown blood
that gathers in his nostrils.
He knows the shower
won’t resurrect him.
Doesn’t razor or comb because
He is afraid even his hair
won’t come back.
The steam rises
but there is no clouded truth
Yet he still reaches for the towel
when nothing’s left to dry.



Victoria Nordlund received her MALS from Wesleyan University. She teaches creative writing at Rockville High School in Vernon, CT. She is also an adjunct professor at the University of Connecticut. Her work is published in Pank Magazine, Gone Lawn, Eunoia Review, Ghost Proposal, and Amaryllis. She is the 2016 NEATE New England Poet of the Year.